


BLUE|Simon Spier x Bram Greenfeld

by Gwen_Myers



Category: Simon vs. the Homo Sapiens Agenda - Becky Albertalli
Genre: Based On a Troye Sivan Song, Blue - Troye Sivan - Freeform, Gayyyyyyy, M/M, song lyrics + book quotes, troye sivan - Freeform, very gay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-08
Updated: 2018-09-08
Packaged: 2019-07-08 16:21:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,712
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15934088
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gwen_Myers/pseuds/Gwen_Myers
Summary: I've been obsessed with Troye Sivan, and his song, BLUE, fits Simon and Bram's relationship perfectly, so I decided to mash up the song lyrics and the book quotes and call it a fanfic.





	BLUE|Simon Spier x Bram Greenfeld

**Author's Note:**

> Reminder that none of this is my own content, but it was my idea to mash it up, and I wanted to share it.

**BLUE | Simon Spier x Bram Greenfeld**

(About Coming Out)

_ Love hits hard, I know _

It’s a giant holy box of awkwardness, and I won’t pretend I’m looking forward to it. But it probably wouldn’t be the end of the world. Not for me.

The problem is, I don’t know what it would mean for Blue. If Martin were to tell anyone. The thing about Blue is that he’s kind of a private person. The kind of person who wouldn’t forget to log out of his email. The kind of person who might never forgive me for being so totally careless.

***

I don’t even know where to begin with that. Some straight kid who barely knows me, advising me on coming out. I kind of have to roll my eyes.

_ All your lights are red, but I'm green to go _

I don’t even know when I figured it out. It was a bunch of little things. Like this weird dream I had once about Daniel Radcliffe. Or how I was obsessed with Passion Pit in middle school, and then I realized it wasn’t really about the music.

_ Used to see you high, now you're only low _

“You could ask Leah,” Abby says. She looks at me sidelong, with a weird, probing expression.

I feel a storm of laughter brewing. “You think I like Leah.”

“I don’t know,” she says, smiling and shrugging. “You looked so sweet together tonight.”

“Me and Leah?” I ask. But I’m gay. GAY. Gaaaaaaaayyyyy. God, I should really just tell her. I can kind of picture her reaction. Eyes widening. Mouth falling open.

Yeah. Maybe not tonight.

_ All your lights are red but I'm green to go _

Honestly, the weirdest part is how they made it feel like this big coming out moment. Which can’t be normal. As far as I know, coming out isn’t something that straight kids generally worry about.

That’s the thing people wouldn’t understand. This coming out thing. It’s not even about me being gay, because I know deep down that my family would be fine with it. We’re not religious. My parents are Democrats. My dad likes to joke around, and it would definitely be awkward, but I guess I’m lucky. I know they’re not going to disown me. And I’m sure some people in school would give me hell, but my friends would be fine. Leah loves gay guys, so she’d probably be freaking thrilled.

But I’m tired of coming out. All I ever do is come out. I try not to change, but I keep changing, in all these tiny ways. I get a girlfriend. I have a beer. And every freaking time, I have to reintroduce myself to the universe all over again.

(Jacques/Simon about Blue)

_ I want you _

That’s where I found Blue’s post. It just kind of spoke to me. Ans I don’t even think it was just the gay thing. I don’t know. It was seriously like five lines, but it was grammatically correct and strangely poetic, and just completely different from anything I’d ever read before.

***

I mean, I just had to know him.

***

I guess I didn’t really think of myself as interesting until I was interesting to Blue. So, I can’t tell him. I’d rather not lose him.

_ I'll color me blue _

Non-hetero sex, though? I imagine it may be a little bit better than Reese’s. Is it weird that I can’t talk about this without blushing?

_ Anything it takes to make you stay _

He likes to imagine me fantasizing about sex.

That’s something I probably shouldn’t have read right before bed. I lie here in the pitch-darkness, reading that particular line on my phone again and again. I’m jittery and awake and completely in knots, all from an email. And I’m hard. So, that’s kind of strange.

It’s really confusing. A good kind of confusing. Blue is normally so careful about what he writes.

He like to imagine me fantasizing about sex!

***

I picture it. He kisses me, and it’s nothing like Rachel or Anna or Carys. I can’t even. It’s not even in the same stratosphere. There’s this electric tingly feeling radiating through my whole body and my brain has gone fuzzy and I actually think I can hear my heartbeat.

***

His tongue is in my mouth. His hands slide up under my shirt, and he trails his fingers across my chest. I’m so close. It’s almost unbearable. God. Blue.

My whole body turns to jelly.

_ Only seeing myself _

So, didn’t there used to be a reality show where people had to date each other in pitch-darkness? We should do that. We should find a room somewhere that is totally dark and then we could hang out and it would be totally anonymous. That way we wouldn’t ruin anything. What do you think?

-Jacques

***

You bring up a good point about our voices. I guess we would have to use some kind of robotic megaphones to warp them so they sound like Darth Vader. Or we could just do other things instead of talking. I mean. I’m just saying.

-Your Zombie Jacques

_ When I'm looking up at you _

Anyway, all things considered, I agree that this as a far more satisfying use of my time than writing English essays. You are very distracting.

-Jacques

_ I want you _

What I want is to sit here and think about Blue. I think I’m starting to get a little obsessed with him.

_ I'll color me blue _

So, who are all these cute guys who make you so nervous? They can’t be that cute. You better not love THEIR sentence fragments.

_ Anything it takes to make you stay _

I’m thinking about Blue – always Blue – because really, my mind only wanders in one direction. I got another email from him this morning. Lately, we’ve been emailing almost every day, and it’s a little crazy how much he’s been on my mind. I almost fucked up a chem lab today because I was emailing Blue in my head and I kind of forgot I was pouring nitric acid.

_ Only seeing myself _

I wonder how it’s going for Blue. I wonder if Blue is feeling the same flutter in his stomach that I feel right now. Actually, he’s probably feeling more than a flutter. He’s probably so nauseated he can hardly choke his words out.

My Blue.

_ When I'm looking up at you _

I have to meet him.

I don’t think I can keep this up. I don’t care if it ruins everything. I’m this close to making out with my laptop screen.

Blue Blue Blue Blue Blue Blue Blue.

Seriously, I feel like I’m about to combust.

I spend the entire school day with my stomach in knots, and it’s completely pointless, because it’s not attached to anything real. Because, really, it’s just words on a screen. I don’t even know his freaking name.

I think I’m a little bit in love with him.

 

(About Coming Out)

_ I can't say no _

“Yeah, well.” Martin shuffles his feet, still staring at this random point over my shoulder. “I’m just going to . . .”

_I’m just going to talk about your sexual orientation now like it’s my business, Simon. I’m just going to tell the whole goddamned school right here, right now, because I’m an asshole, and that’s just how it’s going to go down._

_ Though the lights are on _

“Not my type either,” I say, and Abby laughs. I feel this tug in my chest.

I should really just tell her.

Blue is coming out to his mom tonight—at least that’s the plan. They’re having dinner at home, and he’s going to try to make sure she has a little wine. And then he’s just going to suck it up and do it. I’m nervous for him. Maybe a little jealous of him.

And I guess him telling her feels like a strange sort of loss. I think I liked being the only one who knew.

“Abby. Can I tell you something?”

“Sure, what’s up?”

The music seems to fall away. We’re stopped at a red, and I’m waiting to turn left, and all I can hear is the frantic clicking of my turn signal.

I think my heart is beating to its rhythm.

“You can’t tell anyone,” I say. “No one else knows this.”

She doesn’t speak, but I perceive her angling her body toward me. Her knees are folded up onto the passenger seat. She waits.

I didn’t plan to do this tonight.

“So. The thing is, I’m gay.”

It’s the first time I’ve said those words out loud. I pause with my hands on the steering wheel, waiting to feel something extraordinary.

***

“This is the first time you’ve told anyone?” she says, after a moment.

I nod.

“Wow.” I hear her take a breath. “Simon, I’m really honored.”

I lean back and sigh and twist my body toward her. My seat belt feels tight. I tug my hand away from Abby’s to unlatch it. Then I give it back to her, and she laces her fingers through mine.

“Are you surprised?” I say.

“No.” She looks at me directly. Lit only by streetlights, Abby’s eyes are almost all pupil, edged thinly with brown.

“You knew?”

“No, not at all.”

“But you’re not surprised.”

“Do you want me to be surprised?” She looks nervous.

“I don’t know,” I say.

She squeezes my hand.

_ There's nobody home _

So, you inspired me, Blue. I had my own Coming Out Thing last night. Not to my parents. But I told one of my best friends, even though I wasn’t planning to, and it was awkward and weird and really kind of nice. I feel mostly relieved and a little embarrassed, because I feel like I made it into a bigger deal than it needed to be. It’s funny, though. A part of me feels like I jumped over some kind of border, and now I’m on the other side realizing I can’t cross back. I think it’s a good feeling, or at least an exciting feeling. But I’m not sure. Am I making any sense at all?

_ Swore I'd never lose control _

It is definitely annoying that straight (and white, for that matter) is the default, and that the only people who have to think about their identity are the ones who don’t fit that mold. Straight people really should have to come out, and the more awkward it is, the better. Awkwardness should be a requirement. I guess this is sort of our version of the Homosexual Agenda?

***

The Homosexual Agenda? I don’t know. I think it’s more like the Homo Sapiens Agenda. That’s really the point, right?

_ Then I fell in love with a heart that beats so slow _

I scroll. And then I stop.

Nora turns to face me.

Oh my fucking God.

“You okay?” she asks softly. “I’m sorry, Si. I just thought you’d want to know about it. I’m assuming you didn’t write it.”

I shake my head slowly. “No, I didn’t,” I say.

_December 24, 10:15 A.M._

_SIMON SPIER’S OPEN INVITATION TO ALL DUDES_

_Dear all dudes of Creekwood,_

_With this missive, I hereby declare that I am supremely gay and open for business. Interested parties may contact me directly to discuss arrangements for anal buttsex. Or blue-jobs. But don’t give me blue balls. Ladies need not apply. That is all._

***

“I mean, it’s true,” I say finally. I don’t look at her. We both stare at the ceiling. “I am gay.”

(Simon about Cal, thinking he’s Blue)

_ I want you _

I spot Taylor’s bright blond, super-brushed hair a couple rows ahead of us next to the stairs, and she’s sitting with Emily Goff and a couple if others. A couple of others including Cal Price. My heart beats faster. I knew Cal would be there.

I squeeze through my row and back down the stairs, feeling like every eye in the stadium is on me. Then I reach under the banister to tap Cal on the shoulder.

“What’s up the Simon?” he says. I like that he calls me Simon. A lot of guys call me Spier, and I don’t mind that, but I don’t know. Honestly, I think I would like whatever Cal Price called me.

“Hey,” I say. “Can I join you guys?”

“Definitely.” He scoots over a few feet. “Plenty of room.” And there is – I won’t have to sit on his lap anyway. It’s actually kind of unfortunate.

I spend a full minute trying to think of something to say. My brain feels foggy.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you at a game,” Cal says, pushing his bangs out of his eyes.

And seriously, I can’t even. Because Cal’s bangs. Cal’s eyes. The fact that he apparently notices me enough to know I’m not at football games.

_ I'll color me blue _

And suddenly Cal Price is standing in front of me, nudging my foot with the toe of his sneaker. “Hey,” he says. “Happy birthday.”

This is a happy birthday.

He sits beside me on the riser, a foot or so away. “Doing anything to celebrate?”

Oh.

Okay. I don’t want to lie. But I don’t exactly want him to know that my plans consist of hanging out with my family and reading birthday messages on Facebook. It’s a Monday, right? I’m not actually expected to do anything cool on a Monday.

“Yeah, I guess so,” I say finally. “I think we’re having ice cream cake. Oreo,” I add.

I just have to put the Oreo thing out there.

“That’s cool,” he says. “Hope you saved room for it.’

No discernible reaction to the Oreos. But that doesn’t have to mean anything.

“Okay, well,” Cal says, scooting forward. I will him not to stand up. He stands up. “Enjoy it.”

But then he puts his hand on my shoulder for the briefest fraction of a second. I almost don’t believe it happened.

I mean, I’m dead serious. Birthdays are fucking amazing.

_ Anything it takes to make you stay _

“What’s up, Simon?” Cal says.

“Oh, well. Nothing. Hey, are we supposed to be doing something right now?” As soon as I ask it, I start blushing because the way I phrased it totally makes it sound like I’m propositioning him. _Hey, Cal. Are we supposed to be making out right now? Are we supposed to be having mind-blowing sex in the dressing room right now?_

_ Only seeing myself _

I pull myself up, and before I can talk myself out of it, I walk over and sit beside Cal on his platform. I nudge him on the knee.

“Nice polka dots,” I say.

He smiles. “Nice Labradors.”

I mean, he’s cute, so I’ll let it slide, but the dogs on my pants are clearly golden retrievers.

I sneak a look at his script. “What are you drawing?”

“Oh, this? I don’t know,” he says. He pushes his bangs back and blushes, and good God, he’s adorable.

_ When I'm looking up at you _

I’m 99.9 percent sure that Cal is Blue. But there’s that fraction of a percent of a chance that he’s not. For some reason, I can’t seem to come out and ask him.

So, instead, I ask, “How’s the coffee?”

“Pretty good, Simon. Pretty good.”

_ I want you _

Perfect happiness is: gripping the bottom of a rolling chair with both hands, while Cal Price pushes me down the hall in a full-on run. We race against two sophomore girls from the ensemble. Cal is kind of a slow-moving person, so they totally dominate, but I don’t even care. His hands grip my shoulders, and we’re both laughing, and the rows of lockers are a toothpaste-blue blur. I let down my legs, and we skid to a stop. And I guess I have to get up. I raise my hand to give Cal a high five, but instead, he threads his fingers through mine for just a second. Then he looks down and smiles, and his eyes are hidden by his bangs. We untangle our hands, and my heart is thudding. I have to look away from him.

_ I'll color me blue _

Actually, I think I know who you are, too. So, just for fun, I’m guessing:

  1. You share a name with a former US president.
  2. And a comic book character.
  3. You like to draw.
  4. You have blue eyes.
  5. And you once pushed me down a dark hallway in a rolling chair.



Love,

Jacques.

_ Anything it takes to make you stay _

On Thursday after rehearsal, Cal very casually mentions that he’s bisexual. And that maybe we should hang out sometime.  It catches me off guard. All I can do is sort of gape at him. Sweet, slow-moving Cal, with his hipster bangs and ocean eyes.

But the thing is, he’s not Blue.

_ Only seeing myself _

Now there’s an adorable guy with awesome bangs who maybe even likes me, and it’s completely pointless. I’m not ever going to hang out with Cal. I’ll probably never have a boyfriend. I’m too busy trying not to be in love with someone who isn’t real.

_ When I'm looking up at you _

“Wait till Cal sees,” Abby says under breath,

I shake my head. “He’s not…”

But I can’t finish my thought. I can’t stop looking at myself.

(About Coming Out)

_ I know you're seeing black and white _

I don’t know how people do this. How Blue did this. Two words. Two freaking words, and I’m not the same Simon anymore. My hand is over my mouth, and I stare straight ahead.

I don’t know why I thought this would be easy.

“I know what this is,” says my dad. “Let me guess. You’re gay. You got some-

one pregnant. You’re pregnant.”

“Dad, stop it,” says Alice.

I close my eyes.

“I’m pregnant,” I say.

“I thought so, kid,” says my dad. “You’re glowing.”

I look him in the eye. “Really, though. I’m gay.”

_ So, I'll paint you a clear blue sky _

Basically, due to certain mysterious circumstances, I’m now out to my whole family and will soon be out to the whole freaking universe. And I guess that’s all I can say about it.

_ Without you I am color-blind _

“I am gay. That part’s true.”

“Okay,” she says.

I realize that Nick has stopped humming.

“But I’m not turning this into a big thing tonight, okay? I don’t know. Do you guys want ice cream?” I pull myself up.

“Did you just tell us you’re gay?” asks Nick.

“Yes.”

“Okay,” he says. Abby swats him. “What?”

“That’s all you’re going to say? ‘Okay’?”

“He said not to make a big deal out of it,” Nick says. “What am I supposed to say?”

“Say something supportive. I don’t know. Or awkwardly hold his hand like I did. Anything.”

Nick and I look at each other.

“I’m not holding your hand,” I tell him, smiling a little.

“All right”—he nods— “but know that I would.”

_ It's raining every time I open my eyes _

I’m trying to just breathe.

As I’m walking into the language arts wing, this football guy I hardly recognize almost runs directly into me coming down the stairs. I step back to steady myself, but he puts his hand on my shoulder and looks me right in the eye.

“Why, hello there,” he says.

“Hi . . .”

Then he grabs me by the cheeks and pulls my face in like he’s going to kiss me.

“Mwah!” He grins, and his face is so close I can feel the heat of his breath. And all

around me, people laugh like fucking Elmo.

I yank my body away from him, cheeks burning. “Where are you going, Spier?” someone says. “McGregor wants a turn.” And everyone starts laughing again. I mean, I don’t even know these people. I don’t know why in God’s name this is funny to them.

In English class, Martin won’t look at me.

But all through the day, Leah and Abby are like freaking pit bulls, throwing down the stink-eye in all directions whenever anyone even looks at me funny. I mean, it’s really pretty sweet. And it isn’t a total disaster. Some people sort of whisper and laugh. And a couple of people randomly give me these huge smiles in the hallway, whatever that means. These two lesbian girls I don’t even know come up to me at my locker and hug me and give me their phone numbers. And at least a dozen straight kids make a point of telling me that they support me. One girl even confirms that Jesus still loves me.

It’s a ton of attention. It kind of makes my head spin.

_ I know you're seeing black and white _

One of them is wearing a hoodie and fake glasses and a skirt over his khakis, and they’re both holding giant poster board signs.

The first guy’s sign says, “How u doin’ Simon?”

And the guy in the skirt’s sign says, “WHAT WHAT—IN THA BUTT!”

The guys are grinding and some other people peek through the doorway laughing.

***

It’s strange—I’m not even blushing. I feel like I’m watching this happen from a million miles away.

***

Then she walks over to me and squats down in front of my platform. “You okay,

Simon?”

I feel myself blush a little bit. “I’m fine.”

“Okay, well,” she says quietly. “Just know that those assholes are getting sus-

pended. I’m not even kidding. I will make it my hill to die on.”

Abby, Brianna, and I just stare at her.

It’s the first time I’ve ever heard a teacher cuss.

_ So, I'll paint you a clear blue sky _

“And you know what? You don’t get to say it’s not a big thing. This is a big fucking thing, okay? This was supposed to be—this is mine. I’m supposed to decide when and where and who knows and how I want to say it.” Suddenly, my throat gets thick. “So, yeah, you took that from me. And then you brought Blue into it? Seriously? You fucking suck, Martin. I mean, I don’t even want to look at you.”

_ Without you I am color-blind _

I mean, I get it. Just because I was careless doesn’t mean it’s fair to push you into revealing yourself before you’re ready. And believe me, I’m the freaking expert on that. But now you know my superhero identity and I don’t know yours—and that’s weird, right?

I don’t know what else to say. Anonymity served a purpose for us, and I get that. But now I want to know you for real.

Love,

Simon

_ It's raining every time I open my eyes _

I can tell from her expression that a conversation is coming. Some kind of awkward discussion about ground rules. Some kind of big deal.

But maybe this is a big deal. Maybe it’s a holy freaking huge awesome deal.

Maybe I want it to be.

(Jacques/Simon about Blue)

_ I want you _

But here’s the crazy thing: for the first time ever, I almost get it. It’s weird, it’s gross, and that creepy little winky face pushes into the realm of TMI. But yeah. Maybe I’m losing my edge, but all I can think about it how Blue has been signing emails with the word “love”.

_ I'll color me blue _

And YES, I want to meet in person. And obviously that would change things – but I think I’m kind of ready for them to change. So maybe this a big deal, I don’t know. I want to know your friend’s names and what you do after school and all the things you haven’t been telling me. I want to know what your voice sounds like.

Not until you’re ready, though. And I could never hate you. You’re not going to lose me. Just think about it, okay?

Love,

Jacques

_ Only seeing myself _

But it’s pointless. Because even if I crack that code somehow, it doesn’t change the fact that Blue isn’t interested. He found out who I am. And now it’s broken, and I don’t know what to do. I told him I understand if he’s not attracted to me. I tried to make it sound like I don’t mind.

But I don’t understand. And I do mind.

This fucking sucks, actually.

_ When I'm looking up at you _

Blue isn’t Martin. He’s not Cal. He’s just someone.

So, I go all the way back to the beginning, back to August, and I read through everything. His subject lines. Every line of every email.

I have no idea who he is. No freaking clue.

But I think I’m falling for him again.

_ When I'm looking up at you _

Blue,

I’ve been writing and deleting and rewriting this email all weekend, and I still can’t get it right. But I’m going to do this. So here we go.

I know I haven’t written in a while. It’s been a weird couple of weeks.

So, first I want to say this: I know who you are.

I mean, I still don’t know your name, or what you look like, or all the other stuff. But you have to understand that I really do know you. I know that you’re smart and careful and weird and funny. And you notice things and listen to things, but not in a nosy way. In a real way. You overthink things and remember details and you always, always say the right thing.

And I think I like that we got to know each other from the inside out.

So, it occurred to me that I’ve been spending a lot of time thinking about you and rereading your emails and trying to make you laugh. But I’ve been spending very little time spelling things out for you and taking chances and putting my heart on the line.

Obviously, I don’t know what the hell I’m doing here, but what I’m trying to say is that I like you. I more than like you. When I flirt with you, it’s not a joke, and when I say I want to know you, it’s not just because I’m curious. I’m not going to pretend I know how this ends, and I don’t have a freaking clue if it’s possible to fall in love over email. But I would really like to meet you, Blue. I want to try this. And I can’t imagine a scenario where I won’t want to kiss your face off as soon as I see you.

Just wanted to make that perfectly clear.

So, what I’m trying to say is that there’s an extremely badass carnival in the parking lot of Perimeter Mall today, and it’s apparently open until nine.

For what it’s worth, I’ll be there at six thirty. And I hope I see you.

Love,

Simon

(Blue/Bram about Jacques/Simon)

_ I want you _

I don’t know, Jacques – there’s something about you that makes me want to open up and that’s slightly terrifying to me.

_ I'll color me blue _

I have to admit I like to imagine you as a kid fantasizing about junk food. I also like to imagine you now fantasizing about sex.

_ Anything it takes to make you stay _

You’re cute, Jacques. And I guess you do have a thing about sentence fragments, but I sort of love it.

_ Only seeing myself _

Don’t worry, Jacques. I only ever think about sex with people who hide from their eighth-grade girlfriends in bathrooms on Valentine’s Day, and eats tons of Oreos, and listen to weirdly depressing and wonderful music, but never wear band t-shirts.

I guess I have a very specific type.

(I’m not kidding.)

_ When I'm looking up at you _

Jacques,

I love it.

Love,

Blue

P.S. Get your mind out of the gutter, Jacques.

P.P.S. More like a giant baguette.

P.P.P.S. No, really. It’s Oreos. In your honor.

_ I want you _

And I do think you’re cute. You’re absurdly cute. I think I spend a little too much time thinking how adorable you are in your emails and trying to translate that into a viable image for daydreams and the like.

_ I'll color me blue _

Jacques, I’m almost positive I know who you are.

***

Jacques a dit. Right?

_ Anything it takes to make you stay _

P.S. I love the way you smile like you don’t realize you’re doing it. I love your perpetual bed head. I love the way you hold eye contact a moment longer than you need to. And I love your moon-grey eyes. So, if you think I’m not attracted to you, Simon, you’re crazy.

_ Only seeing myself _

“I kind of guessed a long time ago. Except I thought maybe I was just seeing what I wanted to see.”

_ When I'm looking up at you _

“You’re the cute guy."

(Simon about Bram)

_ I want you _

I can’t believe Bram Greenfeld dressed up. Bram from my lunch table. He’s this quiet black kid who’s supposed to be really smart, but I’ve never heard him speak unless he’s forced to. He leans way back into the couch, shuffling the toe of one foot against the other, and I’ve never noticed it before, but he’s actually kind of adorable.

_ I'll color me blue _

Also, Bram is cute. Like, really, really cute. He stands a foot or so back from the fence, totally sweaty, with a white turtleneck under his soccer shirt. And he’s not really talking, but he has very expressive brown eyes. And light brown skin and soft dark curls and cute, knobbly hands.

_ Anything it takes to make you stay _

I feel this tug of self-consciousness. It doesn’t help that Cute Bram is looking at me.

_ Only seeing myself _

And then someone slides in beside me.

“Can I sit here?” he asks, and my eyes snap open.

It’s Cute Bram Greenfeld, of the soft eyes and soccer calves.

I loosen the seat belt to let him in. And I smile at him. It’s impossible not to.

“I like your shirt,” he says. He seems nervous.

“Thanks,” I say. “It’s Elliot Smith.”

The operator reaches over us and pulls the guardrail down, locking us in.

“I know,” says Bram. There’s something in his voice. I turn to him slowly, and his eyes are wide and brown and totally open.

There’s this pause. We’re still looking at each other. And there’s this feeling in my stomach like a coil pulled taut.

“It’s you,” I say.

“I know I’m late,” he says.

Then there’s a grinding noise and a jolt and a swell of music. Someone shrieks and then laughs, and the ride spins to life.

_ When I'm looking up at you _

“Really, really. Why would I want to watch other people kissing,” I say, “when I could be kissing you?”

 

Bonus (Simon and Bram in a relationship):

_ I want you _

“And I can’t believe you rode the Tilt-A-Whirl for me.”

“I must really like you,” he says.

So, I lean in toward him, and my heart is in my throat. “I want to hold your hand,” I say softly.

Because we’re in public. Because I don’t know if he’s out.

“So, hold it,” he says.

And I do.

_ I'll color me blue _

I think I’m in love.

***

“Abraham,” I say, trying it out, and there’s this soft ache below my stomach.

His eyes flick toward me.

And the rain makes a kind of curtain, which is probably for the best. Because all of a sudden, I’m leaning over the gear stick, and my hands are on his shoulders, and I’m trying to keep breathing. All I can see are Bram’s lips. Which fall gently open the moment I lean in to kiss him.

And I can’t even describe it. It’s stillness and pressure and rhythm and breathing. We can’t figure out our noses at first, but then we do, and then I realize my eyes are still open. So, I shut them. And his fingertips graze the nape of my neck, in constant quiet motion.

He pauses for a moment, and my eyes flutter open, and he smiles, so I smile back. And then he leans in to kiss me again, sweet and feather-soft. And it’s almost too perfect. Almost too Disney. This can’t actually be me.

***

“I’m all in, if you are,” he says.

“All in?” I say. “Like what? Like boyfriend?”

“I mean, yeah. If that’s what you want.”

“That’s what I want,” I say. My boyfriend. My brown eyed, grammar nerd, soccer star boyfriend.

_ Anything it takes to make you stay _

His hands fall to my waist, and he pulls me in closer. He’s only a few inches taller than me, and he smells like Dove soap, and for someone whose kissing career began yesterday, he has seriously magical lips. Soft and sweet and lingering. He kisses like Elliott Smith sings.

***

I love his wry smile. I love watching him relax around me. I mean, I love this. Everything. He leans forward to scratch his ankle, and my heart just twists. The golden-brown skin on the nape of his neck.

Everything.

I float through the rest of the day, and he’s all I can think about. And then I text him as soon as I get home. _Miss you sooooo much!!!_

I mean, it’s a joke. Mostly.

He texts back immediately. _Happy two day anniversary!!!!!!_

Which makes me cackle at the kitchen table.

_ Only seeing myself _

I lean closer to Bram. And because it’s so dark, I slide a hand onto his knee. I feel him shift quietly as he laces his fingers

through mine. He lifts them and presses his lips to the edge of my palm.

He pauses, holding them there. And there’s this fluttery yank below my navel.

Then he lets our intertwined hands fall back onto his lap. And if this is what it’s like having a boyfriend, I don’t know why in God’s name I waited so long.

_ When I'm looking up at you _

I let my body relax on top of his, my head tucked into the crook of his neck. “I like no endings,” I say. “I like things that don’t end.”

He squeezes me tighter and kisses my head, and we lie there.

**Author's Note:**

> This took me longer than it should have, but I'm glad with the end product.


End file.
